Rise of the Princess
by S1lverW0lf
Summary: Human pride and folly, bestial savagery and hatred all swirl around the masked Wolf Princess. Let us explore her past, bring to light the horrors of her youth, upraise the great question of who this feral being is. Let us tell the tale of the San. BTW I desperately need reviews this is my first serious writing work anything is helpful :)
1. Celebration

**Chapter 1- Celebration**

Raucous laughter echoed through an ancient forest of feudal Japan, crazed jubilation as wild as the bonfire blazing in the tranquil wood. It came from a circle of men and women with red faces and wild dancing, drinking to abandon and letting go of everything they were to just exist and revel in themselves. Off to the side sat a small young girl, watching her parents forget her in their carousing, vaguely interesting herself in the leaves and branches surrounding her. The mother danced, and the father danced, and while their eyes passed over their child from time to time, it mattered not. She was but a speck on the edge of their consciousness, nothing compared to the wonderful feeling of the alcohol and the dancing. They laughed and cheered as one for their village's warriors, who had not only felled many trees for the village ironworks but also slayed three great boars to bring back to their home. The forest grew ever more hostile as the spirits and gods fought back against man's relentless slaughter of their inhabitants, but the men were too careless, too proud, or too drunk to care. They danced and ate the flesh of the boars around the fire that night in that wild wood because they, the great human race, inhabitants of the town of iron, had conquered the wood. They had tamed it, taken its trees and killed its boars, because they could. And the men laughed in the middle of the great ancient glade, reveling in their victory. Yet in the wild, beyond the dancing circle of firelight, deep growls and hisses echoed as the vigilant spirits' hatred festered.

Yet of course, the small child knew not of gods or spirits, nor of man or beast. She knew not of the deep hatred, the arrant pride, nor the passion behind man's controlling crusade. She knew but one thing: at that time, in that moment, she was parentless. She sat by the tree alone, not allowed to partake in the alcohol at her tender age, brought along merely to prevent her from causing trouble. At six years old, she was not tiny, but neither was she deemed intelligent enough to be left alone. At times, curious as she was, she approached the fire to watch the fascinating dancing, yet she was often hit across the face by a listless arm, or perhaps intentionally cuffed for interfering with the revelry of her betters, it was all the same to her. So the nameless child remained silent as the growling grew closer.

Moro hated. It was the hatred of an icy wind, purposeful yet without the heat of conventional anger. Moro felt hatred for these humans who thought themselves above the spirits of the forest, above the gods of the land, above her! She felt hatred for these humans, who dared to ransack her forest, cut her trees, kill her friends, and revel in her home. Her twin silver tails swayed slowly back and forth as she watched the people, paws still wet with the blood of the slain boars which had remained in pools where they were killed. Her hard emerald eyes flickered in the distant firelight, yet they shone without a trace of the anger or hatred she felt. Indeed, as she opened her jaws to growl, as she started to pad forward on her giant pas, as her sons followed her to the bonfire, Moro's eyes shone with savage delight.

After all, she had always wanted to taste human blood.


	2. Betrayal

**Chapter 2- Betrayal**

The chaotic event in the name of celebration ran on through the night, the drunken laughter rising and falling while off-key singing tore at the air. The girl still sat off on her solitary tree. If one watched the faces of the revelers whose eyes crossed the girl's face, one might note an odd revulsion, or amusement. The girl was considered cursed, for she had not spoken a single word her entire life, and at times seemed to draw no meaning from the sounds the villagers made. It was said to be done by the spirits of the woods as their revenge for the village's sacrilege, yet none mourned. What was there to be mourned in a tiny girl? So the townspeople cast her away from their society, left her alone, so they could nurture children like them. Her parents kept trying to get her to speak, hopeful that she would bring something to their family, for they noticed that her senses were as sharp as a whip. She always noticed what was around her. Always. Even as she waited for the eventual stillness she knew would overtake the revelers in an hour or so, she noticed the two monstrous emerald eyes in the distance, flickering in the firelight, growing brighter as the came closer.

A man danced around the bonfire, singing merry drunken songs with his friends. He was the best, the greatest, he just knew it! He might not have slaughtered any or the boars, or felled the most trees, but once he had another go… he'd be the best, he just knew it! Nothing could bring him down now, on this great night of victory… He smiled as he danced, taking in it all, the fire, the people, the logs, the moonlight, the alcohol giving the entire world a comfortable tipsy light. However, his eyes soon landed on his daughter, sitting alone by a tree. He had to take a moment before his drunken gaze fixed itself on her. What a disappointment she was. Continually taken care of by him and her mother, continually loved, continually supported, yet continually being useless. She would not speak, she would not pay attention, she would simply run around like a careless child… would she ever grow up? The man cared not about her age… he merely wanted a daughter he could actually be proud of. Not like her, who likely would not be able to even carry her own weight in the future. In a few years she'll only be a waste of space. The man soon looked away and joined back into the revelry, dancing with his tipsy wife, drinking sake with abandon, oblivious to the hating eyes surrounding them. That is, until the growling gave way to yowls, and the ominous eyes gave way to three massive wolves of white fur, firelight glittering off deadly bone claws.

The night stood still and silent as drunken man and wild beast faced off in the pale moonlight. In that brief moment, their mutual hatred blazed as bright as the bonfire. The three strongest men, those who had slain the boars, drew their swords. Their motions were drunken, yet steady, for they had practiced all their lives to be warriors to defend their home. First boars, now wolves would fall prey to the might of men, they thought as they smiled at the grand opportunity for glory. The three, bolstered by the rest of the partygoers, jeered at the wolves even as more normal wolves surrounded them, throwing sticks and stones and laughing even as the makeshift projectiles bounced off the wolves' thick fur. They took no heed as the three huge silver wolves made way, and an even taller, even grander wolf with blazing jade eyes and twin snow-white tails stalked forward towards the three proud warriors and raised her massive claws.

Moro laughed as the three swordsmen struck at her. It was a deep, growling laugh befitting her great age. Yet despite her many years, there was nothing slow or raged in her fluid strike, her claws shearing off the heads of the drunken warriors as if they were but bothersome branches in her path. Their corpses fell to the ground, blood pooling as the cheering for the warriors died out and silence once again took over the clearing. Even Moro fell quiet as the warriors died, for the spirits and gods of the wood knew to how to respect the dead. Through the silence, many emotions smoldered and blazed. Fear, anger, shock. Pride. Outrage. Hatred and bloodlust. As the rest of the men drew back and pulled out swords, Moro stayed behind as her sons and the wolves of the forest advanced on the bonfire. After all, she knew of their anger, and wanted them to let them have their fun. She laughed as the men were slaughtered, the savage joy of revenge blazing in her green eyes.

It was not long before silence once again fell upon the dying bonfire. The horrors of what remained shall not be spoken of.

Yet one lone man dodged and rolled through the wolves, closely followed by his small daughter who ran with him on light feet. It took the man a long time to notice his daughter at his heels, and even when he did, he didn't care. He just ran, and ran, pride shattered, only managing to understand through his drunken mind that he needed to escape. Escape. ESCAPE!

Moro turned to the running man and child, signaling to her blood-stained sons that they were her prey. She started running, the age old excitement of the hunt starting to warm her as her paws quietly brushed the ground. It was not long before she caught up to the two, yet before she could pounce, the man did something she did not quite expect, catching her off guard.

The man knew he could not escape as the giant twin-tailed wolf leaped out of the shadows. He grabbed his daughter's hand, pulling her up in his arms. He did what he thought he must to survive, drawing from his drunken memories of childhood stories and old legends…

"WAIT!" The man shouted. "STOP!"

Moro stopped, incredulous. Her prey had told her, a GOD, to stop? How interesting… She let herself stand still, curious, smiling down at the man. The man did not seem to be running away… she let him speak.

He spoke with the drawling voice of one hopelessly inebriated, stuttering in his words. "Forest god, I offer to you a sacrifice, in exchange for my life…"

With a great heave, drunken yet strong, the man flung his daughter towards the wolf, not caring to watch as he turned, filled with a fiery passion to survive at all costs. As he started to run off, his daughter hit the ground hard before Moro, head hitting the rocky ground hard and knocking her unconscious at Moro's feet. She considered her for a moment before raising her head once more.

Moro had no sympathy for the man, or any inclination to let him run free. She resolved to kill the girl later; she wasn't going anywhere. She leaped after the man, fangs bared, claws out, her yowl piercing the night-and she collided with a mass of red moving across her path. The two fell to the ground hard, each rolling fluidly into a standing posture towards each other as the man kept running, oblivious to what had occurred. Moro met the eyes of a fox, with six tails and distant blue eyes that seemed to gouge into Moro's very soul. Moro's emerald eyes widened as she started to growl, spitting at the fox who simply raised his head and made an obsequious bowing gesture towards her.

"Ah, O Wolf Queen, I sincerely apologize for blocking your path… 'twas an accident, I had no idea you were before me until I could not stop…" The fox's eyes changed color to a sharp green not unlike Moro's own as he gave her a razor-sharp smile.

"Liar," Moro spat at him. "What business do YOU have protecting my prey?" She was furious, her blazing rage once taken out on the warriors now redirected at the smiling fox.

"Yes, of course it was a lie, but a rather pretty one… reminds me of quaint folk tales of lovers crossing each other by twilight…?" The fox's eyes twinkled as he needled Moro, moving to block her as she tried to step around him.

"Burn, you insolent bastard, and be quiet… Never open your damn mouth in front of me… Let me devour the man, my prey! You know what he is, don't you? Are you not blind?" Moro's voice dripped with fury and bloodlust as she shook in anger.

The fox's voice, however, was placid and tranquil, like a windless night. "You think I'm blind, O Wolf Queen? Even while you yourself are so blinded by rage? I can see it in you… so well…" The fox was next to Moro, close enough to lick her paw as his eyes became a deep, unfathomable blue. Those deep blue eyes started to glow slightly, and his tails and fur burst into blue foxfire. He spoke to Moro, fangs glistening in the moonlight as he crooned in her ear.

"Let him run, let him squeal, let him be shattered and live the rest of his life in fear of the wild, in fear of us, dear Wolf Queen… Let him teach the humans their place" The fox licked Moro's fur affectionately, dancing gracefully away from her slashing claws as he continued speaking.

"So bloodthirsty, dear Moro… have you considered the child? She has no place, she is not special… She'd be no fun to hunt, but rather easy to rip apart, I imagine… In fact, I might do it myself, if you pass her up…" The fox's eyes turned to dark amber, regarding the small girl with a gentle smile that spelled violent death. However, Moro stepped forward.

"The girl is mine. She was given to me, not to you, fox."

The fox's eyes were betraying irritation more and more, and his fur began to bristle as Moro continued speaking, forcing out her words.

"I will take her to the Deer God. She… She has done nothing to us. The Deer God will decide the girl's fate" She snarled at the fox as she moved to curl around the girl a few meters behind where she stood.

"What lies, dear Wolf Queen. You only seek to cross me. Why, why, why? I am not your enemy. The people of the town are, can't you see?" His eyes were a fiery blue, angry and proud. "Forget the girl. Let me have her."

Moro simply turned away, merely growling, "Be gone, Fox".

The fox could not take it anymore. He screamed, burning in blue foxfire, as his voice tore at the air.

"I have a NAME, Wolf Queen! I have a NAME, Moro!"

As the name of the wolf goddess echoed through the midnight glade, Moro moved and slashed. The foxfire burned out as the fox's flank split, blood drenching fiery fur as the fox screamed. By the time the fox was lucid enough to think through the sheer pain, Moro and the girl were long gone, leaving behind only a few blood-soaked paw prints leading to the sanctuary of the Deer God.

The fox laughed and delighted in the pain, for he knew two things that burned brighter and stronger than any wound. First, his wonderful blessing, and second, his love for the savage queen of the wolves.


	3. Salvation

**Chapter 3- Salvation**

The girl dreamed as her mind slowly faded into ephemeral consciousness, long after the crack of the stone and the blackness it brought. Wild wolves ravaged her dreams, slashing bright red across vaguely familiar faces in the darkness… no, it was in the light, and not the wolves killing, but the familiar faces, ripping off fur and tails with blood everywhere… No, there was no difference, there was but one mass of beings. Hurting, slaying each other, themselves, the world around them, all crumbling to ash. She too was dying, her head blazing, her vision blurred red as she looked on the dark plain… She watched a wolf with her father's face ripped apart by a strange man with a boar's head, twisted and deformed children she knew dancing in the fall of red as they killed and were killed… the girl tried to cry, but no sound came out as the dream faded into blackness. As the darkness began to return, she stared into the eyes of a being gazing towards her; a majestic lupine creature, giant and pure silver with twin blood-soaked tails with the face of her mother. In the fullness of her slumber, the dream decayed. By the time she awoke, it had vanished entirely from her waking consciousness, leaving no trace.

As the girl slept, her brown hair wet with the wound her watcher had caused, Moro gently carried the girl in her mouth. She could feel the girl's weak heartbeat, smell the girl's youth, and taste the iron dust on her clothes and skin. She could hear the girl's quiet breathing, sensing her life teetering on the edge between Moro's great fangs. So easy to kill her. So easy to snuff out any chance of her succumbing to her human tendencies of destruction and desecration.

But no. She had sworn to the fox that the girl's life was not hers to take, but the Deer God's. And unlike the bastard fox, she kept her word. She made her way through the woods towards the inner sanctum, where the Deer God, the all-powerful _kami_ who ruled the forest, made his home. Of course, Moro chided herself, to say he 'ruled' wouldn't quite fit. The Deer God _was_ the forest, as the great spirits of the glade and the vitality of the wood were mere reflections of the Deer God's power. He held both the powers of life and death, and would judge all who came before him. Some, he healed for the good of his home. Some, he killed, for their time has come. He was no mere god such as Moro was, but a powerful existence that simply _was_.

Moro wound her way through the thick wood, ignoring the faint calls of greeting and questioning by the spirits around her. She dislikes explaining herself, even if she dared to carry a human into the inner sanctuary of the glade.

She eventually came to a series of ponds, deep in the wood. Though shallow, these ponds teemed with life, and glowed as if by an inner radiance. Many sounds pierced the night air, but it was no cacophony; it was as a masterful symphony of water gushing, of birds calling, of branches cracking under the paws of an unseen predator, all perfect and nothing out of place. However, the scents were a different story. Different scents swirled on the wind: sharp fish, sweet pear, cool water. For all that, the girl's scent cut like a knife, of hard iron and cold metal. It was a tranquil place, far from the reaches of human idiocy. The girl was unwelcome, jarringly out of place and startling to the spirits and animals residing there. Moro gained many a baleful stare and curious eye as she waded through the shallow pools towards a lone shimmering isle in the middle of the greatest pond. On the isle, a lone, shimmering tree stood in the soft inner light of the ponds. As she reverently walked towards the shimmering isle, fish swam out from under her paws, and dappled moonlight shone fitfully through the dense canopy to dance on the water. It was surreal, truly worthy scenery for the doman of such a powerful _kami_. Careful not to step on the isle, Moro gently set the girl on the mossy shore. Moro could no longer touch the girl, so she turned to leave, a sense of completion and finality in her soft gait through the shallow pond.

If the Deer God willed, the girl would live and be healed.

If the Deer God willed, the girl would die and be no more.

Of course she would die, Moro thought. Her kind is unwelcome in the forest, with their smell of sharp iron and defiantly sacrilegious hands. Nothing good ever came of dirty humans, she thought as she washed the stench of blood from her thick fur. Let the girl die, she thought. It would be no true loss.

Yazu returned to his abode, a cave deep in the woods, wound healed but fur still soaked in his own blood. He breathed in, he breathed out. She, the wolf queen, got him. She never had before, but even lumbering wolves can be quick sometimes, he supposed. If only she had said his name, his beautiful name, if only he could hear it, just once more… It had been a hundred long years since he had heard his name, Yazu, on the tongue of another… Always fox, or demon, or trickster, or some wildly uncouth variation, all so ridiculous. Why skirt around absolute truth? He was Yazu, and Yazu meant him. It was his name, his name, his precious name! He smiled a fanged smile, tasting the name on his lips, rolling around his tongue lovingly. Someday Moro would speak it again… he swore on it...

He did not notice, of course, but the cavern he lied in was burned and blackened by the blue flames Yazu was often burning with. He rolled into a puddle, rinsing his amber fur as he let the foxfire subside. As he stood once more, the moonlight struck in from the distant opening, illuminating a glaring scar winding from his face to his tail where Moro tore through his soft skin under his fiery coat… and he rejoiced, for he knew it would be with him the rest of his life.

Moro slept in her forest hollow, her three sons curled up around her. Her great heavy breathing sent a rumble through the ground, dependable as the sun and moon, her existence proving the wood was alive and well. And so she slept, one with the trees around her, and awaited the dawn of a new day.

The people of the village slept peacefully in their homes of wood as the ever-burning iron furnace in the center of the town blazed, fueled by the living forest now dead. They slept full of pride, sharing a strong faith in their walls and warriors, knowing not of the horrors that had occurred that night. So they slept in ignorance, and awaited the dawn of a new day.

The girl's father slept outside the heavy oak barricade around the town of iron. He was weighed down by nothing but his loincloth and a rusty sword; all else had fallen off or caught on a branch during his mad dash for freedom from the demons of the wood. Overcome by a half-drunk, half-hungover stupor, the full weight of what he had done had not come yet. That would come with the cold sobriety of morning. In time, he would come to realize that he had killed his daughter to merely save himself. Be that as it may, he lied down by the hard wall on cold stone, huddling in fear and awaited the dawn of a new day.

Yazu slept in his burned cave of darkness, his mind enraptured by fever dreams of red and black and white. Figures were dancing, dancing, dancing on the edge of his consciousness, just out of his mind's comprehension, he could sense them, smell them, taste them… He tossed and turned, but none noticed, for he was alone. Always alone, always forsaken… except by the Deer God… who was, is, and will be Yazu's true savior and master until Yazu's long life reached its end. As he slept in darkness and solitude, awaiting the dawn of a new day, a wonderful brilliance entered his dream.

The world slept that night. All was still, for even the long-held hatreds of man and beast were forgotten while sleep overtook them all. The land was utterly tranquil as it had been thousands of years past, as it always was in the dead of night. And so it was that the forest slept, and awaited the dawn of a new day.

The girl too slept on that shimmering, surreal isle, deep in the forest glade. And as she lay, unconscious on the soft grass, a beautiful light came into her dream. She trembled as she _felt._ Harmony. Peace. Fate. Healing and light. What a wonderful brilliance… The beautiful dream faded as the presence departed, and the girl awaited the dawn of a new day. Indeed, the coming daylight would decide her fate.

Yazu woke the next day in the early morning, far before the sun rose, eyes bright gold with rapture as he recalled his wonderful, brilliant dream. Oh, the joy, the joy, the great savior had spoken to him! He was to be used once more! Yazu rolled around, chest heaving in great laughter, shaking from the happiness he felt. Just as he dreamed of the Deer God's wish for the girl, and prevented Moro from killing her, he would happily obey these new directions… He shaped beautiful sapphire flames in his hands, twisting that which is and is not into grand illusions, ripping and folding the fabric of reality with his immense power. He cast out the enchanted foxfire into the forest, and the entire expanse of his side of the glade fell under his control to shape and mold until he released the illusions… He licked his lips, his languid form and soft azure eyes playful as he waited for his prey.

Long after the fox made his preparations in his secluded corner of the glade, Moro woke to the sunlight and the songs of birds. She tasted the air, the lush scent of fern and feather mixed with the enticing smell of deer and elk, all flowing by her on a gentle western wind. She opened her eyes slowly, squinting at the reflected sunlight from her sleeping sons' silver fur. She turned her great head to avoid the glare, looking instead out of the hollow. Of course, dense emerald foliage blocked her view, and nothing before her had changed in the slightest nor interested her in the least, so her gaze wandered back in time into her memories. Vivid flashes danced through her mind. She recalled her slaying the three proudest warriors, remembered the feverish chase through the forest. It was all tinged with the crazed excitement of the hunt, and she smiled a satisfied grin to herself. With savage pride, she remembered her encounter with the fox. Oh, how she'd been trying for so long to mark him, strike him down… how she hated him… Of course, it wasn't enough, but she had marred him. Smile fading, she remembered the human child. She would be dead by now, killed by the almighty hand of the Deer God for her future sins against

The forest. She would be lying motionless on the isle, body slowly decaying, becoming part of the great wood. Moro grimaced, imagining the horrid smell that must be coming from her body. The sanctuary was no place for decay. Moro stood and quietly padded out of the hollow, leaving her three sons to sleep. They had fought well, Moro remarked, protecting their home and family with a loyal vigor Moro loved. So unlike their father… Moro paused, snarling and shaking. May the gods burn and blacken them and let him suffer in the eternal fires of hell. May she be the one to finally kill him, once he finally returns, kill him for what he did. She shook her head, clearing it of the specter of her once-mate. So irrelevant.

Meanwhile, the girl woke, burning with life. It was as if she had stiffed after being bedridden for years, and everything was as sharp as broken glass to her mind. Her vocal cords, destroyed by a mighty blow to her throat when she fell as a child, vibrated softly as she hummed, damage healed. She knew who she was, a name, a name, repeated again and again by a golden voice in that golden dream. She stood, and gasped in amazement as she opened her eyes. She was in an impossible paradise of strong ancient trees and tranquil ponds. She stood on an isle that was set apart from the forest by a great basin, and as she looked around she noticed that it was not a bed that she had risen from but moss so perfect she did not feel the cold stone underneath. She spent a short eternity just listening to the birds and creeks, tasting the beautiful smell of herbs and wildlife, living a transcendence known to none but her. She stood there enraptured for a long time, basking in herself and her surroundings. On a conscious level, she knew she must go home. But her identity, that golden name, the very fibers of who she was, rooted her to the tranquility of the forest for just a bit longer.

Moro neared the sanctuary, considering where to bury the girl after Moro dragged her off of the island. She disliked disposing of corpses, but the girl was innocent, she had done nothing yet. And Moro disliked the idea of a dead human child in the sanctuary. As she stepped out into the first of the ponds, however, her nose piqued her curiosity. There was no smell of rot, no scent of decay. It was the nature of the sanctuary to air the flowing of life and death, the Deer God's twin dominions. The smell of the girl's body should be at least nominally present on the air… Moro hurried her pace, jumping over familiar roots, muttering hurried greetings to passing spirits, until she burst through the brush unto the shore of the great pond. She reverently raised her emerald eyes to the great sacred island, and saw an impossibility. The girl stood tall and strong, staring defiantly at Moro with deep sapphire eyes that cut into her very being.

As the girl stood there, reveling in her name, she turned sharply as her keen ears detected a large rustling in the nearby brush. As she stared out across the waters, she met the cold emerald eyes of a murderer. Her mind blazed as she told herself what she had to do… run, run, RUN! Before the wolf killed her! She fled, burning with fear, blazing with a will to survive as she had never felt before. She took to the water like a fish as the wolf, seeming startled, raced towards her, climbing ashore and sprinting into the woods, seeing none of its beauty as she had before through her red-tinged gaze. She just ran, and ran, following nothing but pure instinct like a wild beast. She would live. She would Live. She would LIVE!

Moro stood astounded on the shore as the girl began to ran. The girl lived. How? What could she ever be worth? The deer god, saving a human girl? She must know. She had to. She raced after the little child, as fast as her paws could take her, heart pounding, racing, leaping as she raced after her lust for knowledge. She ran, and ran, and- stopped dead. She growled, her heart filling with a cold fury as she looked out into the dark corner of the forest the girl had run into. Her eyes, imbued with her divine power, easily made out small blue flames dancing around the wood, twisting perception like the web of the foulest of spiders.

The girl ran. Fear. Sheer, utter terror consumed her. Trees. Branches. Leaves. Twigs snapping under her feet. Cold stone. Smooth moss. She ran. Thorns ripped at her ankle. Blood. Pain. She overcame. She had a name. Running, running, red, red everywhere! So… tired. So tired… she fought and fought to keep going. She would live. Live. LIVE! She had to hide… the wolf must still be nearby… a cave, a CAVE! She ran, cutting her feet on the blackened rocks as she landed in the cavern. She kept running, until the sun was merely a small spot far above her. It was dank, vaguely lit from above as she collapsed on the cold stone, panting and exhausted. She looked up after a while, and met the eyes of a man, standing not three feet away from her. In the vague light, she could see two things clearly. One, the man smiled kindly at her with dreamy azure eyes. Two, the man bore a long scar, running from his forehead all down his bare chest.


End file.
